I must have Dumb Fuck written on my forehead.
I took her to my home. Introduced her to my family. I let her in my bed. I fell in love with her.
And, all that time, she was married.
“Fuck!” I slam my hand against the steering wheel. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”
Breathing heavily, I grip the wheel tight with both hands, trying to get a handle on my emotions.
How could she look me in the face and lie to me like that? Was she fucking me and then climbing out of my bed and calling him up? Telling him she loved him?
Because she sure as fuck doesn’t love me.
Jesus.
I don’t even know who her husband is. But I’m guessing he knows about me by now.
The whole world probably fucking knows.
Embarrassment covers me like a dirty black cloak.
I can’t stay in Vegas. I need to get away. I need to go back home.
I turn the car in the direction of US-95, heading north to Oregon.
Once I’m on the highway, I turn on the radio.
“And, in entertainment news today, pictures are circulating of Hollywood sensation Vaughn West, who has been caught in an intimate moment with a married woman. The woman has been identified as Charlotte Michaels, a wardrobe assistant on the set of West’s current film, The Lament.”
I reach out to turn it off when the sound of her husband’s name stops me.
“Ms. Michael’s husband, Nick Sharp, an interior designer, resides in New York with her. They’ve been married for four years. When approached, Mr. Sharp wouldn’t comment on if he had any knowledge of the relationship between his wife and Vaughn West. We reached out to West’s publicist, but we have yet to hear back.
“And, in other news, Patrick Dean is back in rehab—”
I turn the station off.
Nick Sharp.
She told me that Nick was her gay roommate, whom she’d known since college. God, she’s a better fucking liar than me, and I get paid to do it for a living.
My head feels like it’s going to explode. I can’t think about it anymore.
I need music to fill my head, but Aiden doesn’t have any CDs in here. I turn the radio back on, search through until I find a heavy metal station, and turn it up loud.
Twelve hours and two gas stop breaks later, I’m finally driving into Keno.
It’s late. I’m tired. And my fucking head aches.
If I’m being honest, everything aches. My heart especially.
At the last rest stop, I decided to charge my phone, using the charger that Aiden had left in here.
I know Jack and Alex have been trying to call me. There are missed calls and countless messages from both of them.
There are missed calls and messages from Charly, too. But I won’t listen to them.
I don’t want to talk to anyone, and I especially don’t want to talk to her.
What does she need to talk to me about? I think everything that needed to be said was said back at the hotel.
But I should call Jack. I know he’ll be worried about me.
I press Call on his number and wait for it to connect.
He answers on the first ring, “Where the hell are you?”
“I’m fine. I just need some time alone.”
I don’t tell him I’m home. Even though Jack’s never been here, I know he’d come charging down here and get me to go back to Vegas. And, right now, that’s the last place I want to be.
“You need to get your ass back here. I’ve got the press on the phone nonstop. Brandon’s freaking out. You’re supposed to be back on set tomorrow.”
I sigh. “Tell Brandon I’m sorry. And that I’ll call him soon.”
“You’re sorry? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means I won’t be there tomorrow, Jack.”
“You can’t just run out on a film, Vaughn. You’re committed to this. You signed a contract.”
“I know. I just need a few days.”
“The delay will cost millions, Vaughn. Brandon could sue.”
“So, let him sue me. Or ask him to just give me two days, and then I’ll be back.”
“He won’t like it.”
“I know. But he doesn’t have a choice.”
There’s a pause.
Then, Jacks says, “Stupid question, but how are you doing?”
I laugh humorlessly. “I’ve had better days.”
“She’s gone,” he tells me in a lowered voice. “Left not long after you did.”
I want to ask if he knows where she was going. But part of me already knows. She’s going back to him. Her husband.
“You should’ve told me—about you and her. I could’ve done a background—”
“Not now, Jack, okay?”
“Okay.” He sighs. “So, I’ll see you in a few days?”
“You will.” I disconnect the call and turn my phone off.
I take the turn onto my parents’ farm. Driving up the track, I see the lights are still on at their house. Then, I look at my house off in the distance.
The last time I was there, I was with her.
I turn off to my parents’ house and park out front there. I can’t stay in my house tonight.
My mom comes out the front door just as I climb out of the car.
“Hey, baby,” she says, a sad smile on her face.
“Hi, Mom.”
I walk over to her, and she wraps her arms around me, hugging me.
“It’s going to be okay,” she tells me.
“I know,” I say, but I don’t believe it.
Because nothing about this feels like it’s ever going to be okay.
I thought what I felt after Cain betrayed me was bad. But this, with Charly…it’s a million times more painful.
Charly
“I’m so, so sorry,” I tell Nick on the phone.
“Charly, it’s not your fault.”
It is. It’s all my fault. But I don’t bother arguing with him. I know Nick will never see the bad in me. Just like I never would in him.
After Vaughn walked out on me, I was left there in his hotel suite with Jack and Alex. Uncomfortable didn’t even cut it. So, I walked out without a word to either of them and came to my hotel.
The room was too silent, so I made the stupid mistake of putting the TV on. The first thing that came on was E! News, and the presenters were discussing Vaughn and me. The moment I heard the word cheater, I switched it off and rang Nick.
“Are they still out there?” I ask.
“The press? Yeah, there’s a bunch of them hanging around the front of our building.”
I cover my face with my hand. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“It’s gonna be fine, gorgeous.”
“No, it’s not!” I cry. “The whole world thinks I’m a cheating whore. The press is camped outside our building, hounding you. And Vaughn hates me.”
“He doesn’t hate you.”
“You didn’t see the way he looked at me right before he left.”
“You’re impossible to hate.”
“Stop trying to make me feel better.”
“You want me to make you feel worse? Homewrecker. Is that better?”
“A little.” I sigh. “What are we going to do, Nick?”
“Right now, we are going to do nothing.”